These Ravages of Spirit
by randomglitter
Summary: Giles returns to Sunnydale to find his Slayer mentally unstable, abandoned by all but an embittered Xander. This is an AU set roughly at the end of season six, and it ignores canon after Giles' departure.
1. The Violence of Existing

Title: These Ravages of Spirit: The Violence of Existing (Part 1)  
Author: Nicole  
A/N: This follows the canon up to "Tabula Rasa" and then is fairly AU. So, forget everything that has happened since Giles left Sunnydale the first time. Disclaimer: Giles, Xander, Buffy and the BtVS universe are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They're not mine...though maybe Joss would consider renting Giles out for the weekend?

_"What ravages of spirit  
Conjured this tempestuous rage  
Created you a monster  
Broken by the rule of love?"_

- Do What You Have To, Sarah McLachlan

As he stood motionless in shadows, Rupert Giles watched the young man standing next to the entrance of the hospital. Shaggy dark hair obscured his eyes as he bent his head to light the cigarette already pressed between his tight lips, but when Xander Harris straightened, Giles became inexplicably nauseous. 

There was nothing overtly grotesque about his appearance...he looked like the same Xander that Giles had known for years now. Yet his face was...different. The eyes were cold; Giles couldn't help but liken them to stones. His youthfully handsome features were twisted in anger. Instead of his usual cheerful smile, he sported an indifferent scowl. Desperately, Giles searched that face for the boy he had left behind. Finding him nowhere, the Watcher stepped forward, directly into the force of that frozen gaze. 

Xander's eyes flickered with..._relief? resentment? hate?_ Giles wasn't sure, it was too brief a respite from the empty glare. The mask slammed back down, Xander moving his head slightly to indicate recognition. 

"Since when do you smoke?" Giles was going for a light tone, but he felt the words come out flip and patronizing. Xander merely raised his eyebrows in response, holding out the pack silently. His mouth quirked in a brief but honest smile, Giles took the proffered cigarette gratefully. 

"How was your flight?" These coldly civil words stabbed at Giles' heart more than any angry shout, more than even the silent treatment. _He's going to be a grown-up; he's not going to let you back in,_ Giles thought to himself fiercely._ Only a fool would think otherwise._

"It was well, thank you," he responded just as mechanically. Again, Giles thought he saw Xander wince slightly. 

_He's not as good at this as I was at his age,_ Giles mused clinically, then was hit by a sudden wave of self-loathing._ What, you want him like you? Bloody hell, there was a time when the boy loved you, you black-hearted bastard. Of course he's in pain._

"Let's do this, then." Xander turned away from him, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You comin', or what?" 

"Yes, of course." As Giles followed Xander into the hospital, he couldn't help but remember the phone call that had spurred his rather sudden trans-Atlantic flight. 

***

  
"...Hello?" Giles cradled the telephone against his chin, letting his head drop back down on to the desk in exhaustion. 

"Giles? That you?" Slowly, fuzzily Giles had made the connection. A phone call. A voice that he knew. 

"...Xander," he mumbled. "It's late..." 

"Not really..." Xander replied, somewhat puzzled. "It's only an eight hour difference..." 

Giles pushed his head up painfully. "Oh." The clock only read 8:45 PM. 

"Are you drunk again?" Xander demanded, disgust evident in his voice. 

"What?" Giles asked weakly, looking at the decanter of scotch still clutched in his trembling left hand. "Of course not. Xander, why on Earth are you calling--" 

"I knew this was a waste of time," Xander muttered. 

"Is something wrong? Is everyone all right?" Giles realized he was slurring the words, and sat up, trying to clear his head. There was a bitter laugh at the other end of the line. 

"Everyone. Yeah, everyone's fine, all...two of us." 

"I don't understand," Giles said slowly. 

"Willow and Tara have gotten back together--yay for them. They were packing up their things, getting ready to move out--to San Francisco, which is cliché even for Will--and then I found her." 

Even in his alcohol impaired state, Giles was able to decipher those words. "You mean--" 

Xander paused for a moment, seeming to revel in the pain he was feeling from across the line. "No, she's not dead, Giles." 

"Th-thank God," Giles stammered in relief. "Goddamn it, Xander, what are you trying to tell me?" 

"Buffy had a breakdown, okay?" Xander said irritably. "I don't know how else to explain, I'm no psychiatrist." 

"What the hell do you mean, a breakdown?" The rage was sobering Giles somewhat, and he fished blindly for his glasses. "Are you saying my Slayer has lost her mental--" 

_"Your_ Slayer has done nothing," Xander cut in sharply. "The girl you walked away from when she needed you the most? Yeah, she's gone psycho. She stopped being your Slayer when you stepped on that plane." 

"Psycho...Xander, I need facts, not a lecture." Giles cradled the phone against his chin as bent down to tie his shoelaces. 

"She's been in the psych ward for the last month." 

Giles went completely motionless, not even breathing. He felt sweat dripping from his palms, felt his mouth dry. "A month." 

"Yeah." 

"And you're calling me now." The voice was even, deadly so. Xander's response was somewhat hesitant. 

"...Yeah." 

"...Xander Harris, you little sodding _fuck._" There was venom in the Watcher's voice. He spat out the words with more hatred than he had ever shown Angelus. 

"Giles--" 

"So why do you even bother letting me know now?" Giles asked with cold sarcasm. 

"She's...she's asking about you." The apathy was coming back into Xander's voice. "The doctor asked me to call you. He thinks it would be a good idea if you came." 

Giles gritted his teeth. "Does he now?" 

"Yeah...if you can sober up for a couple days. Think you can manage that?" 

"You bloody pillock, I'm not as drunk as you think I am." He paused for a second. "And even if I were a slobbering lush in the gutter, what gives you the unmitigated temerity to even _consider_ commenting on it? Who are you to pass judgment on me?" 

"I don't know, G-Man." Xander's voice seemed oddly heavy. "These days, I honestly don't know." 


	2. Things Just Couldn't Be the Same

Title: These Ravages of Spirit: Things Just Couldn't Be the Same (Part 2)  
Author: Nicole  
A/M: See part 1 for disclaimer and author's note. 

_"If I leave here tomorrow  
Would you still remember me?"_-Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd

"She seems to be having a pretty good day, Mr. Harris," the nurse said warmly. Xander nodded absently, glancing over at Giles, who stared blankly at the door to Buffy's room. 

"I'm gonna talk to her first, tell her you're here." Giles nodded, pushing his hand through his graying hair. Xander was struck by the drawn look of the Watcher's face, the clouded look of his changeable green eyes. Giles had aged ten years in as many weeks, it seemed. Xander doubted he'd slept since receiving the phone call three days ago. 

"I suppose that'd be best," Giles agreed, his voicing shaking with more than exhaustion. Ducking his head, he pulled his glasses off to wipe them methodically with his handkerchief. 

Watching such a characteristic action, Xander felt his throat start to close up. Before he could stop himself, the name came up in a strangled murmur. 

"Giles..." They both looked at each other intensely, searching the other's gaze. 

"Yes?" Giles asked cautiously, restraining himself. 

"...Just wait here," Xander mumbled weakly, turning from him to push the door open. "Hey, Buffy!" 

Giles heard all the warmth that had been missing from Xander's voice concentrated in those two words, and he sighed in frustration as the door swung shut behind him. Turning away, he met the concerned gaze of the nurse. 

"Sir, I didn't catch your name..." she said slowly. "I'm Elizabeth." 

"Oh, forgive me." Giles took her hand. "Rupert Giles." 

Elizabeth brightened. "Giles? Oh, you're practically all she talks about. Good of you to come." 

This didn't serve to ease Giles' anxiety as he murmured an empty reply, turning back to the door. The door suddenly opened, and Xander poked his head out, a falsely cheery smile plastered on his face. 

"Come on in, Giles!" he said loudly. Taking a deep breath, the Watcher went to face his Slayer. 

***

  


The girl who sat cross-legged on the bed was painfully slender, with wide, luminous blue eyes and a sheath of dark blonde hair that obscured her pretty face. Physically, she was unmistakably Buffy Summers, but when Giles looked her in the eyes, he saw nothing in the expression that he recognized. 

"Hi," she said calmly, glancing up at him with little interest. "Who are you?" 

Giles felt his stomach churn with fresh nausea, but before he could reply, Xander let out a choking sob, turning away from them. The Watcher fought his own urge to scream in horror, instead forcing his face into a gentle smile. 

"Hello, Buffy," he replied in a soft, steady voice. "I'm Giles...do you remember me?" 

"Of course I remember Giles." The young woman peered at him suspiciously. "My Watcher. But he's in England...you're not Giles." 

"Yes, well, I came back, Buffy," he told her in the same low voice. "I heard you weren't feeling well, and I wanted to see you." 

"No," Buffy shook her head. "No. Giles wasn't going to come back...I was too dependent, and I needed to learn to do things on my own, needed to be the Slayer." 

Giles looked around quickly to see if the nurse had overheard, but then realized that Buffy must have said many things to that effect if she had been talking about him as much as the nurse had said. Hoping it would be ignored as the idle rantings of a broken mind, he shrugged it off. 

"Sometimes people are wrong, Buffy," he said with a soft sigh. "Sometimes, it's all right to have help." 

Buffy rolled her eyes at this. "Whatever," she said dismissively, and it was so like his old Slayer that Giles felt tears well up in his eyes. 

"Buffy..." he whispered desperately, unconsciously reaching out to touch her hand. Blinding anger suddenly flashed across the girl's face, and she lashed out frantically. 

"Don't _touch_ me!" she shrieked as her flailing fist came into contact with Giles' face. His head jerked back violently as he tasted blood. Had Xander not rushed up from behind to support the older man, the uncontrolled Slayer strength would have knocked Giles to the ground. As it was, the Watcher sank heavily into Xander's arms, staring dazedly at Buffy as he raised a hand to gingerly touch his split lip. 

Buffy's blue eyes widened in horror as she saw him bring his fingers away, wet with blood. She shook her head repeatedly, pulling her legs under her, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to...it was an accident..." 

"Buffy, Buffy...it's _Giles!_" Xander exclaimed, pushing Giles' still shaky form to the side. "Look at him, will you just _look_ at him?" 

"Xander," Giles cut in quickly, but Xander kept talking, kneeling on the bed to look at Buffy intently. 

"Buffy, come on, it's Giles, you know it is," he said in a low, intense voice, staring into the Slayer's eyes. 

"I hurt him," she said uncertainly. "He's bleeding." 

"It's okay, he's not mad, he doesn't mind." Xander was speaking quickly now, a slight undercurrent of excitement. Giles watched him with a frown, seeing the manic gleam in his eyes. "You've hit Giles more times than that..." 

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. "Giles is not here!" Buffy screamed. 

"Yes, he _is!_" Xander shouted back, slamming his fist down on the bed. Buffy cried out, a high-pitched plea for help as she backed away from Xander. 

"Xander, that's _enough!_" Giles snapped sharply, grabbing the younger man by the shoulders and pulling him roughly off the bed. As the nurse came in to soothe the frantic patient and shoo the visitors away, Xander stumbled into the hall, running blindly. 

***

  



	3. Then He Walked Away

These Ravages of Spirit --Part 3 Title: These Ravages of Spirit: Then He Walked Away (Part 3)  
Author: Nicole  
A/N: See part one for disclaimer and author's note. 

_Father of mine  
Tell me, where have you been?  
Y'know, I just closed my eyes  
My whole world disappeared_-- Everclear, "Father of Mine" 

"Xander." The soft voice repeated his name insistently, breaking through the blackness to catch his attention. "Xander..." 

Blinking somewhat groggily, Xander looked up at a familiar face. It was twisted into a concerned expression, one that the lines etched on to it suggested was worn far too often for a man still well short of fifty. 

"Giles," he said hoarsely. "What are you doing here?" He looked around, seeing where his blind rush had taken him. Crawford Street...not very far from the mansion in which Angel had lived...in which Angelus had taken Giles as "house guest." Xander had run frantically, jogging when he finally ran out of adrenaline, walking until he could go no more. Then he had sat on the curb, head buried in his arms, trying to block out the world...block out the blank look he had seen in Buffy's eyes as she had regarded her Watcher and mentor, block out the piteous wail she had let out upon spilling more blood. 

Giles offered him a bizarre smile, eyes shifting to the mansion. His mouth tightened slightly, then he winced in pain, gingerly touching his split lip. "It's nearly sundown," he said simply. "Not precisely the place to be after dark. Get in the car, if you would." 

Xander looked from Giles to the sleek black rental car waiting a few yards back. "You can't drive that!" At Giles' bewildered expression, he clarified. "The Beamer...or hey, the Citroën!" 

"In case that horror is not fresh enough in your mind, my Citroën was destroyed--along with my place of business--by Anya's lovely ex, the troll...thing." Xander felt his chest tighten at the mention of Anya's name, and he fought to keep his expression neutral. "Now, if the inanity is done, would you too terribly mind getting in the car? This is isn't exactly the spot in which I'd choose to have a bloody tea party!" 

Wordlessly, Xander rose to his feet, and they both walked to the car. Both men remained silent for several minutes after Giles pulled away from the curb, waiting until the Crawford Street neighborhood was far behind. Xander broke the silence first. 

"Where are we going?" he asked, gazing out the window. Without so much as a glance at the passenger seat, Giles turned on to Revello Drive. 

"We're going to the Summers home," he replied calmly. "I need to see Dawn...and you and I have to talk." Xander felt a chill run down his spine at Giles' words, wondering how something said with such perfect British dignity could sound so menacing coming from Rupert "Ripper" Giles. Then he focused on the other thing that Giles had said. 

"Dawn?" Xander repeated slowly. "I didn't tell you?" 

The car jerked to an abrupt halt as Giles slammed his foot down on the brake, stopping in the middle of the street. 

"No, you did not," he said in a voice that could have paralyzed a lesser man. "If Dawn is in a mental hospital, if Dawn is hurt or missing in any way, so help me, Alexander Harris, I will--" 

"She's fine, she's fine!" Xander broke in hurriedly. "She's just...not in Sunnydale." 

Giles stared at him for an instant, mouth slightly ajar, then he quickly closed it. "Right, then. We'll go to my place. And now we truly do need to talk, don't we?" 

***

"It's pretty simple, really," Xander explained as he sat on Giles' couch. "Willow and Tara left, which--well, yay for them, or whatever." The bitterness in Xander's tone could not be fully suppressed. "Dawnie had nowhere to go after that, with Buffy..."he trailed off, and then took a deep breath. "I mean, I would have taken care of her as much as I could, but...God, I have to work for a living, too, you know?" 

"Yes," Giles replied quietly, keeping his expression neutral even as his heart wept with pity. Xander was very nearly broken. 

"We called her father, then, and Willow explained as diplomatically as possible that he needed to take care of his fucking daughter." This time, Xander didn't bother to hide his anger. "So he flew out, took her to Spain with him...Dawn had been failing her Spanish class, of course, but...Yeah. Hank Summers, father of the fucking year." 

"I need a drink," Giles announced, turning away from Xander before he saw the shadow form over those hardened brown eyes. Giles knew he was just reinforcing everything the younger man had ever learned from the adult men in his life, but at this moment, he simply couldn't bring himself to play role model. 

He was impressed by the steadiness of his own hands as he poured the whisky, but reasoned that by this point, the action must be controlled by muscle memory. He stared for a second, looking at the glass, remembering the first time Buffy had seen him drunk...seeing the confusion in those clear eyes... 

"Jack Daniels, huh?" Xander asked, breaking into his reverie. "I guess you took all the good stuff back home with you." 

The pointed emphasis on home may or may not have been intentional, but Giles certainly took note of it. Speaking quickly to overcome the awkward silence, Giles held up the bottle as a peace offering. 

"Would you like a drink as well?" he asked, adding a nervous chuckle. "I keep forgetting that you're no longer a child. After watching you all grow up, I still want to play the father." 

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Xander asked sardonically. "Gee, and I thought it was called abandoment." Giles felt his hand clench around the neck of the bottle, and willed himself back under control. "But I guess Buffy should have been used to it by this point, huh?" 

"Don't talk about what you don't understand, Xander," Giles told him in a quiet, harsh tone, but he was more than stung by the remark. "Do you want a goddamn drink or not?" 

"No." There was sanctimony in Xander's tone, and it made Giles bristle, but there was also determination. "I see what alcohol has done to my father, and I'm not gonna be that guy." 

_And he sees what's become of you,_ remarked a nasty voice in Giles' head. It was nonsense, of course-- a Giles didn't drink like a Harris. A Giles would be perfectly civil, and functional...just a bit of Scotch before bed, is all. 

He took a sip of the whisky, letting it burn down his throat, closing his eyes as he swallowed. There was no need to look at Xander. He could feel the desperation and disapproval without needing to see it in the boy's eyes. 

Giles couldn't stop himself from snapping. "For god's sake, boy, what do you want from me? I'm sorry? I think this is all past the point of an apology making everyone feel all warm and fuzzy again. It's time to grow up!" 

"Don't you patronize me now, _Ripper,_" Xander seethed, standing up to walk closer to Giles, looking straight up into his eyes. "Not after all this, don't you dare talk to me like I'm that idiot fifteen year kid that you thought you were so much better than." 

"Xander, you were a child!" Giles exclaimed in exasperation, resisting the urge to move out of the personal space that Xander had so deliberately invaded. "And you continue to act like one." 

"You left us," Xander went on, ignoring Giles' words. "You left us, you left her, you left me. And it all fell apart without you. Does that finally make you feel needed, Watcher-man? Isn't that the problem? You felt all neglected." 

"Don't, Xander," he urged sharply, placing his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Don't do this, I beg you, don't do this..." 

Xander threw off his arm, and lunged at Giles with an inarticulate growl. Without a thought, Giles grabbed him, taking advantage of his momentum to shove him against the wall. Before he really knew what he was doing, his clenched fist hit Xander's jaw with a sickening thud, and the boy slid to the floor with a soft groan. Everything had happened so fast...Giles wasn't sure what had happened, but now Xander was a crumpled heap on the ground, and Xander was crying, he was actually crying, and Giles was staring at his own left hand in a kind of dull shock...and he was crying as well. 

_Idiot child...he knows my strength. He knows not to...good Lord, what have I done? I'm no better than his father... _

"Xander..." he whispered, dropping to his knees next to the young man, touching his face gently. He knew his voice was hoarse, he knew that there was a hint of a sob in his throat, he knew that his own tears were splashing on to Xander's jeans. "Xander, I'm sorry. I truly am." 


End file.
